


The Keeper's Keeper

by ohhaypsy



Category: The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Friends to Lovers, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD (mentioned), Suicide, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-27
Updated: 2019-06-13
Packaged: 2019-12-18 17:59:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 16,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18254978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohhaypsy/pseuds/ohhaypsy
Summary: It justwas,and it felt like had justbeenfrom the very beginning.Snapshots of Newt and Alby's relationship.





	1. One Month

**Author's Note:**

> I really don't understand why I love this pairing as much as I do.
> 
> Okay, first off, this whole thing is written, so for the three of you that are in this hell with me, no worries about being left hanging.
> 
> Second, this is mostly book canon, with some details from the movie thrown in.
> 
> And lastly, I threw a good chunk of stuff established in Fever Code just right out the window. There were a lot of things that didn't quite make sense for me -- mostly revolving around Newt's suicide attempt and his position in the Glade. I never do this usually, but I decided fuck it and filled in with my own headcanon. I'll explain more as things come up. So sorry canon-sticklers, I swear I'm normally in your camp.

In the beginning, they were all Runners. Once they managed to stop klunking their pants in terror, anyway.

They didn't know to be scared of the Maze yet. They'd fan out in small groups, sketching quick maps as they went, making sure they got back to the Glade before the doors shut for the night.

In the first month, they lost three boys. All they knew was that if they didn't make it back before nightfall, they were gone. They started being more careful with the Maze.

When the first new boy came up in the box, they realized that none of them were going anywhere any time soon.

So they settled in for the long haul.

** One Month **

Newt finished lacing up his shoes and then stood, bouncing a bit to test them out. He hadn't really expected whoever sent them here to actually listen to their request for better shoes, let alone give them such nice ones. He'd be hurting a lot less after a day in the Maze with these.

"Can't believe you still want to go out there," came a voice from behind him.

Newt turned around, flashing Alby a smile. "Well, someone's got to. Might as well be the fastest of us if we want to get far."

Alby scoffed and looked away from him. He was leaning against the Homestead wall, arms folded across his chest and his face pinched into a tight frown. "That's some modesty for ya."

"No point tryin' to be modest about somethin' that's just a simple fact." It was the truth -- Minho was close on his heels, but no one questioned that Newt was the best they had at running the Maze. And not just because of his speed. He had a knack for the Maze, had managed to get farther out than any of them, sketch out more of it, learn more about it, and still get back to the Glade safely before the Doors closed.

Newt preferred it out there, anyway. Out there he at least felt like he was _doing_ something, rather than just accepting their fate.

Alby didn't say anything, just scoffed again as he glared at some invisible point off in the distance. As unemotional as Alby was, he wasn't very good at hiding what emotions he _did_ have.

Newt regarded him thoughtfully, that vague sense of familiarity he sometimes had pinging somewhere in his chest. It wasn't strong, or frequent, but it did happen; it was the feeling he got when he realized he remembered what a cloud or a television was, despite being unable to remember having seen one before.

He felt it sometimes when he looked at Alby or Minho. And judging by the way the other two seemed to seek him out, they felt it too.

With a chuckle, Newt moved into Alby's sight line, neck craned to try and catch his eye. "What, ya worried about me? Ain't that sweet." It was weak, but maybe the gentle teasing would put a crack in Alby's foul mood.

It didn't. Alby's gaze snapped to Newt's, and he was scowling now. "You know there's plenty of work to be done here, right?"

Newt sighed. Alby hadn't been particularly happy when he volunteered to be one of the few allowed out into the Maze, but this was the first time he was _saying_ anything about it. "And there's plenty of people who can do it. I'm most useful out in the Maze, Alby, we both know that."

"Doesn't mean I gotta like it," Alby grumbled, sitting on the ground, arms folded across his knees.

 _That_ caught Newt off guard. There was no denying that Alby was his best friend in the Glade, but this sort of show of _worry_ made Newt's chest clench just a bit.

He glanced at his watch -- he still had a little bit of time before he had to head out. He plopped down next to Alby, their shoulders touching. "Hey," he said quietly, bumping slightly against him. "You know I'm careful out there, right?"

"I know," Alby replied, his tone sulky. "I just got a bad feeling about it. We don't really know what's out there, and something in me says there's a whole lot worse that can happen out there other than gettin' lost." He looked over at Newt, and Newt could see worry in his expression. "We still ain't even found bodies out there."

He wasn't wrong. Newt frowned a little bit, then let his head fall onto Alby's shoulder. It was slightly awkward with the height difference, but Newt didn't care. The physical contact felt good, and even if Alby didn't reciprocate much, he didn't seem to mind indulging Newt.

"I'm not sayin' I'm not scared," Newt said quietly. "But everything here scares me, Alby. I hate all of it. At least when I'm out there, I'm doin' something to try and get us out. I don't forget, but it helps keep me distracted from how bloody _scared_ I always am."

He hated saying it out loud. He doubted it was reassuring, but at least Alby knew he was taking it seriously, not risking himself for the hell of it.

After a long moment of silence, Alby settled his head on top of Newt's. Newt felt that clench again, but this time, it was accompanied by a gentle warmth.

"Just make sure you come back outta there every night, you hear me?" Alby lifted his hand, hesitating for only a moment before grabbing Newt's to gently squeeze it.

"Hey! Slinthead!" Before Newt could respond, Minho's voice was calling out for him. "Quit making out and let's get moving!"

The moment was broken, but Newt squeezed Alby's hand back before standing. "See ya in a few hours," he said with a smile.

Even as Newt moved away, Alby didn't let go until the last second.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here goes.
> 
> Thanks for reading my nonsense.


	2. Three Months

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big middle finger to Fever Code in here. I'll explain why at the end.

It took some time for them to get truly organized. At first, they had all pitched in without hesitation. They were all in the same boat after all, scared and lost and confused. They'd lucked out with Nick; the boy was a natural leader and had taken charge almost immediately to keep them all working together.

But when forty teenage boys are shoved together, friction is bound to happen. And forty teenage boys was a lot for just one boy himself to wrangle.

Others stepped up to help, sorting out the others for jobs, taking lead on groups themselves. But the community needed more official leadership, a proper chain of command.

It had been Alby's idea to organize the Keepers. Most of the votes as to who they should be were unanimous.

**Three Months**

Newt didn't consider himself a leader, but as Minho put it, the Keeper of the Runners should be the best of them. So Newt was the one charged with organizing the maps, keeping lists of what they needed, sorting out what each one of them discovered each day.

He was good at it. And it was almost as good of a distraction as the actual Running itself.

It had surprised him when Minho had put his name forward, but what truly caught him off guard was Alby being a part of the unanimous vote. They hadn't talked about it again, but Alby never bothered to hide his distaste at the idea of Newt being a Runner in the first place.

Newt found Alby in the Deadheads, setting up memorials for the boys lost in the Maze. He'd taken the task upon himself after being elected as Keeper of the Baggers. They still hadn't found the bodies, just bits and pieces of clothes or packs. Bodies or not, Alby had said, everyone deserved to be remembered.

Approaching quietly, Newt settled himself on the ground to watch as the other boy worked. Alby had removed his shirt, and Newt couldn't help but watch the muscles in his arms and back shift and tense as he buried the items they'd found from each of the boys.

When Alby finished, he straightened up and wiped an arm across his forehead. "I know you're there. You could've helped, y'know."

Newt gave Alby a sheepish smile when the other turned and faced him. "You seemed focused. Didn't want to interrupt."

With a sigh, Alby dropped his shovel and went to sit next to Newt. He didn't say anything, just looked at the memorials of the boys they'd lost. Newt knew they were both thinking the same thing.

Who would be next?

Newt shook his head in an attempt to chase away the thought. Instead, he turned to smile at Alby. "So. Keeper of the Baggers." It suited him. Keeping order in the Glade would be rough, but if anyone was up to it, it was Alby.

"Keeper of the Runners," Alby replied, still not looking at Newt.

His tone was displeased, and Newt's insides squirmed a bit. "Gotta be honest, wasn't expectin' you to vote for it."

"It was the right choice," Alby responded with a shrug. "Minho might be a idiot, but he had it right -- Keeper should be the best." His shoulders slumped a bit. "Besides, not like I can keep you outta that shuck Maze."

It was still a silent fight they had. Every time Newt pulled on his shoes, he could practically feel Alby glowering. Every time Newt returned, Alby was waiting by the Doors.

Newt sighed. "Alby--"

"Slim it." Alby's voice wasn't angry -- more tired than anything. "I get it, I do. I shouldn't've said anything."

Even as frustrating as Alby's concern could be, Newt didn't truly mind it. It felt good to know that someone worried about him, that someone was waiting for him to come back out of the Maze every night.

It felt even better to know that someone was Alby.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Newt as Keeper of the Runners before his injury was my headcanon before Fever Code came out, and I know it was debunked, but I've had a hard time letting it go. It's pretty obvious that he's _Alby's_ second-in-command, it's hard to see him playing the same sort of role to Nick. And he's obviously not new to the Gatherings, and has been in a leadership position in the Glade for a lot longer than just the month that Alby's been in charge, considering the way everyone defaults to him. Especially considering the way _Minho_ defaults to him, I have a hard time seeing Minho being in charge of him. And with how ordered and structured Glade life is, him being a leader when he was just another Runner didn't jive with me.
> 
> Though it mostly boils down to the fact that I didn't like Fever Code much so I had a hard time letting go of my attachment to the idea of Newt as previous Keeper, so I said screw it. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> Thanks for reading my nonsense.


	3. Four Months

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stole the wall from movie canon because it's a sweet idea.

George was the next. But he wasn't lost to the Maze.

They knew now why they'd never found bodies. They knew now what was out there, the horrible creatures that Minho had spotted. _Grievers,_ George had called them, shrieking as he had thrashed. As he attacked Carl.

They had tried to subdue him, attempted to administer the serum, but nothing had worked. Nothing other than Alby shoving a makeshift spear through the back of George's neck.

There was a reason Alby had been elected as Keeper of the Baggers. He was the one strong enough to do what had to be done.

**Four Months**

Alby had enlisted two of the other Baggers to help him drag George's body out to the Deadheads. They were gone for about an hour, burying him and setting up his tombstone. At nightfall, all the boys gathered by the Wall to watch Nick cross out George's name.

 _Funeral._ Newt didn't know if he'd ever been to one, but he knew that's what it was.

He'd tried to go to Alby afterwards, but the other boy had shaken off the hand on his shoulder before heading back to the Homestead, the others giving him a wide berth. Newt gave him his space for the time being, knowing Alby needed to process what had happened. What he'd had to do.

But processing could make a quick turn into dwelling which even faster allowed something to fester. Newt gave Alby until the other boys were going to sleep before looking for him.

It wasn't hard to find him; Alby had shut himself up in one of the few rooms of the Homestead that functioned as a bedroom. Most of them had been reserved for usage by the Keepers, and Newt was glad for the privacy.

Alby sat on the bed, half-dressed, his shirt in his hands as though he'd lost steam before putting it on. His head hung, just staring down at his hands. Even with his dark skin, Newt could see reddish patches where he'd scrubbed dirt and George's blood off of himself.

Newt didn't say anything, just sat on the bed next to Alby, hesitating before resting a hand on his bare back. Alby tensed slightly at the touch, but then quickly relaxed back into it.

"I didn't even stop to think," Alby said, his voice weak. "Just ran to the closest useful thing I could grab, then ran back and stabbed him. Right in the neck. Didn't hesitate, just shucking _murdered_ him."

"It wasn't murder, Alby," Newt said gently. He shifted closer to Alby, sliding his arm over his shoulders. Alby dropped the shirt and slumped into him, and Newt took the opportunity to pull him closer, to hug him properly. "If it wasn't for you, he would've killed Carl before we got him down. No one blames you, not even Nick."

Alby shook his head, leaning a little more into Newt. "Don't change the fact that I killed him without even thinking 'bout it." He gave a dry, humorless laugh. "The messed up part? That ain't even really what I been thinking about. All that's going through my head is what if…"

 _What if it had been you._ The unspoken words hung heavily between them. Newt held Alby tighter, for once not knowing what to say.

Alby shrugged off his arms with enough force to catch Newt off guard, but instead of moving away, he turned to Newt, holding the other's face in his hands. "You promise me. You promise me, Newt. You see one of those things, you _run._ You run until you think your legs are gonna give out, you run until you're back inside those Doors, alright? You promise me _right shucking now."_

The fierceness in Alby's expression, in his voice would have scared Newt if it wasn't accompanied by such worry and _caring._ He wrapped his hands around Alby's wrists, then nodded. "All right."

_"Say it."_

Newt leaned in, and Alby met him halfway, pressing their foreheads together. "All right. All right, Alby, I promise."

Alby let go of Newt's face, and pulled him into a tight hug, one arm wrapping around his waist while the other slid into his hair. Newt settled his own arms around Alby's shoulders, holding him back just as tightly. In this moment, Alby needed the physical contact just as much as Newt did.

Newt stayed in Alby's room that night. And the next. And the next, until everyone in the Glade thought of it as _theirs._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Carl is named for Carl Sagan.
> 
> Newt and Alby were married way before they ever made out.
> 
> Thanks for reading my nonsense.


	4. Six Months

The routine was stabilizing for most of them.

Wake up. Breakfast. Work. Lunch. Work. Dinner. Relax. Sleep. Repeat. Again, and again, and again. Once a month, the monotony would be broken by a Greenbean being sent up in the Box. They'd be shuffled around, until they found what suited them. Periodically, someone would be moved so they didn't go crazy, doing the same thing day after day, week after week, month after month.

It was harder for the Runners; there were only so many of them who could do it, after all. Sure, they switched out occasionally to rest and recharge, but it was never long until another one needed a break. They each took a day off once a week, but the physical exertion, the isolation of the Maze, the _responsibility_ of being the ones to find the escape got to all of them.

Newt was the only one who never switched out.

** Six Months **

Newt skipped dinner after his time in the Map Room, going over what the day's Runners had found. He knew he should replenish his strength, but his stomach knotted at the idea of food. He ached all through his muscles, down to his very bones. And it wasn't because of the Running. He'd actually stopped today for a good long while.

Because today he'd found the Cliff. He'd sat there for at least an hour, legs dangling over the edge, just looking out into _nothing._

He'd come back to the Glade early, before Alby was even waiting at the Doors for him.

Lying in bed, he didn't sleep. He just stared at the wall without truly seeing it, his mind filled with dull static.

He laid there for what felt like (and might have been) hours until the door opened, Alby quietly letting himself in, a sandwich in his hand. Alby didn't say anything, just set the sandwich on the nightstand, then sat on the bed next to Newt. He ran a hand through the other's hair, and Newt closed his eyes, turning his head into the touch.

Newt didn't say anything. _Couldn't_ say anything. And Alby didn't try to make him, instead just content with gently massaging Newt's scalp.

Finally, Newt moved over, silently asking Alby to lay down with him. Alby did, and immediately wrapped Newt up in his arms, curling around him the best he could considering Newt was the taller of them.

It helped -- it always did. Newt was by nature a tactile person, always there with a pat on the back or a squeeze of the shoulder when he thought someone needed it. He was the Keeper of the Runners, but his instinctive need to take care of everyone had more than once gotten him called Glade Mom too.

It was comforting to know that Alby wanted to take care of _him_ just as much as Newt wanted to take care of everyone else. Newt closed his eyes and pressed his face into Alby's chest, enjoying the closeness.

After awhile though, it wasn't enough. Even with his arms around Alby, even with their legs tangled together, their bodies flush, it still wasn't _close_ enough.

Newt shifted up a bit, and Alby's arms loosened to let him go, but Newt still held tight to him. He moved so they were eye to eye, their noses bumping once before Newt settled his head on the pillow.

Alby blinked, but the faint surprise quickly faded from his expression. His voice was a quiet murmur. "Hey."

"Hey," Newt breathed back.

And then he kissed him.

Alby kissed back with no hesitation, one hand cupping Newt's face. They shared a bed every night, slept together, limbs tangled together, but this was their first kiss. It was soft, just a gentle press of their lips, slow and tender. Warm, but not heated, an affirmation rather than initiation. An acknowledgement of what was already there, but was only just now being acted upon.

Even as Alby's hand slid back over Newt's jaw, his ear, fingers threading in his hair to kiss Newt deeper, even as Newt's hand went to Alby's hip to pull their bodies closer, their kiss remained unhurried, just exploring each other in this new way.

Eventually their kiss ended, and Newt fell asleep with his head tucked under Alby's chin. Alby must have talked to Nick the next morning because their leader ordered Newt to take the rest of the week off from Running the Maze.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading my nonsense.


	5. Nine Months

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **potential trigger warning:** mentioned PTSD

They thought they had seen the worst after George's death. They were wrong.

Hank was the next to be stung by a Griever. The serum worked this time, but they still had to listen to his screams for days. And after… he wasn't the same. He wandered the Glade, lost, flinching whenever someone approached. And then, Neil made the mistake of accidentally sneaking up on him.

The Med-jacks couldn't patch up the stab wound in time. Alby had another body to bury. They locked up the weapons after that.

Gally called for Hank to be banished into the Maze, and most of the other Keepers agreed.

Alby voted for it. Newt did not.

** Nine Months **

Anger was a foreign emotion to Newt. He'd felt annoyance, frustration, even aggravation, but never _anger_ like this before, not in his memories of the last nine months.

He hadn't liked Gally from the beginning, but now he _hated_ him. He hated the other Keepers for agreeing to the punishment. He hated himself for giving in. In this moment, he even hated Alby.

Newt spent the rest of the night staring at the Maze wall, imagining he could he could hear Hank's screams, even through the thick Doors. It wasn't until long after the others had gone to bed that he finally headed back to the Homestead.

Alby was in their room, still awake, obviously waiting for Newt. His face was blank as he looked up at Newt, which made Newt's gut churn even more.

Newt scowled as he undressed for bed. He couldn't look at Alby, the same way Alby couldn't look at him when he voted to banish Hank.

Alby sighed, and Newt heard the bed creak as he stood. "Newt--"

 _"Don't,"_ Newt snarled, turning around to glare at Alby, warding off the other boy's approach. He didn't want to be touched, didn't want to talk, didn't want to hear Alby's justification for sending one of their fellow Gladers off to his death.

Alby's eyebrows raised, taken aback by the venom in Newt's voice. But he didn't retreat, and instead moved closer to Newt, one hand reaching out. "You know we had to--"

Newt smacked his hand away. "Don't buggin' _touch_ me." It was the first time he'd ever refused physical contact from Alby. "And no, I _don't_ know. You don't understand what's out there, Alby, what we Runners have _seen._ You don't get it, none of the other Keepers do -- we left him to the bloody _Grievers,_ we sentenced him to worse than--"

"Neil is _dead."_ Alby's voice was harder than Newt had ever heard it; any of the other Gladers would probably be klunking their pants in fear right now, but not Newt. If anything, he glared harder.

Alby didn't relent. _"You_ don't get it, Newt, you weren't here, you didn't see it. Hank stabbed Neil, _three shucking times._ He was dead before Clint and Jeff could do anything. What were we gonna do, throw him in the Slammer for a week?"

"And that justifies killin' him?" Newt snapped back. "Killin' _one of us?_ He'd been stung, he was _sick._ He didn't have any bloody idea what he was doin'!" Newt could feel tears stinging his eyes, and he failed to hold them back. He'd kept himself together during the vote, when he'd given into the other Keepers' decision. Even as they pushed Hank past the closing doors, listening to him scream and beg, Newt had remained impassive. But now, here, alone with Alby, it was all coming out.

Newt hated that Alby was somehow managing to strip him bare without even trying.

He didn't notice Alby moving until the other was in front of him, his expression full of worry. Alby lifted his hands, but stopped, hesitant to try and touch Newt again. Newt shook his head, but didn't step back, holding himself tightly. He wanted the comfort, but couldn't handle it at the same time.

"We killed him, Alby," Newt said through quiet sobs. "Me. You. All the other Keepers. _We_ murdered him."

"I know," Alby said in response, his voice soft. Newt heard the pain in it, and realized suddenly that if anyone could even come close to understanding, it was Alby.

Finally, he let Alby take his hand to lead him to the bed. They slept facing away from each other, but with their backs still pressed together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Neil is named for Neil deGrasse Tyson.
> 
> Thanks for reading my nonsense.


	6. One Year

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fluff 4 dayz.
> 
> Lifted Gally's piss booze from the movie.

When the one year anniversary of their arrival in the Glade came, none of them were sure if they should be somber about the fact that they were still here, or celebrating that they had lasted this long. Should they be congratulating themselves on their achievements, or remembering those they had lost?

When Gally dragged out a crate of jugs filled with some horrible concoction he'd somehow brewed, they all decided that whatever they were going to do, they were going to do it drunk.

** One Year **

Only the most essential of work had been done today, things like watering the garden or feeding the animals. Frypan had chased away the other Cooks, and just left out things like sandwiches and fruit for the Gladers to snack on throughout the day. Newt insisted the Runners take the day off and stay in the Glade. And when the Doors closed for the night, a bonfire was lit and they all cracked into Gally's swill. The largest group of boys, about twenty or so of them, was gathered around the fire, closest to the homemade booze, laughing and drinking, but plenty of the others had split off in smaller groups throughout the Glade, spending the night in their own ways.

It was the closest thing to a holiday any of them had any recollection of. Newt knew what holidays were, but couldn't say what he'd done for them, or even give any examples of one. But with the drink warming his chest and lightening his head, with Alby's arm around him, holding him close, Newt could imagine a lot worse ways to spend one.

They sat together back against a tree, close enough to the fire to ostensibly be part of the group, but far enough away to be able to talk with some privacy. Newt had been surprised to feel Alby's arm around his shoulders, pulling him into the shorter boy's chest. They weren't exactly a secret in the Glade -- they'd been sharing a room for the better part of the year, after all -- but neither of them were particularly affectionate when the others were around. Alby especially, to no surprise. But Newt wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth, and grinned as he slumped down to properly settle in against Alby.

They drank as they watched the group around the fire, cheering the other boys on when they started drunkenly kicking around a ball. Though it wasn't long until Minho tripped and fell on his face, and Alby lurched forward forward in laughter, jostling Newt and nearly spilling both of their drinks. "Atta boy, Minho!" he called out. "Star Runner, right there!" Minho threw a rude gesture at Alby as Nick helped him up, which Alby returned, still laughing.

Newt was laughing too, but it was as much at Alby's reaction as it was at Minho's fall. He watched Alby take a long sip of his drink, no longer wincing at the taste. "You're drunk," Newt accused, sitting up and grinning. "You're completely smashed, aren't you?"

The noise Alby made could only be described as a giggle. "What, and you're not?"

He wasn't wrong. Gally's drink tasted like piss -- might have been piss, for all they knew -- but it was doing the job, and the majority of the boys in the Glade were in varying levels of inebriation, Newt included. But Alby was _drunk._ And Newt was delighted.

"Never said I wasn't, but _you?"_ Newt shifted to face Alby better, and leaned into his space to smirk at him. "Alby, Keeper of the Baggers, Bringer of Order to the Bloody Glade, is absolutely shuck pissed out of his mind."

Alby grinned at him, and the sight made Newt's stomach squirm pleasantly. Alby was letting go for the night, dropping the stern gravitas that had earned him his position, and was just relaxing and enjoying himself. It was something Newt didn't see often enough; Alby carried the weight of the Glade on his shoulders, more so than any of them other than maybe Nick. But right now, for this night, he was just letting himself be _happy._

Newt realized he was grinning back at Alby, and couldn't help but steal a brief kiss.

Or at least what was intended to be a brief kiss. Alby caught him by the back of the head, keeping him there while he kissed back, warm and hard. The other boys were too distracted by their game to take any notice of them, and Newt just let himself melt against Alby, half in his lap now. He personally didn't care who saw -- the others obviously didn't care, the two of them had been snuggled up together for most of the night after all, and no one had bothered to comment -- but Alby was always a little cagey about it.

Newt pulled back just enough to speak. "You know someone's goin' to be noticin' any second, right?"

Alby rolled his eyes, but was still smiling. "You started it."

"So I did," Newt agreed with a laugh. He'd done his due diligence in regard to Alby's comfort, and so didn't hesitate in resuming their kiss, this time with a bit more heat.

It didn't take long for their hands to start wandering, gripping at hips, sliding up shirts, both drunk and distracted enough to forget the others were there at all. It wasn't until they heard Minho yell, _"Yeah, Alby! Get it!"_ that they stopped, pulling away from each other in embarrassment.

Gally was the closest, standing with his arms folded across his chest, frowning. "You shanks wanna get a room?" His voice wasn't amused, but it held no real anger, just annoyance.

Despite the embarrassment, they followed Gally's advice. The trip back to the Homestead was clumsy and distracted, interrupted by tripping and laughing and fumbling and kissing. They ended up not doing much except some drunken fooling around before passing out, but when Newt woke up the next morning, head pounding, he decided it was still worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you forgot, they're unsupervised teenagers. _Sketit, boys._
> 
> Thanks for reading my nonsense.


	7. One Year, Four Months

No one liked getting the Greenies settled in. The poor guys were almost always confused and terrified, though not without reason. And every month, they asked the same questions that still didn't have answers. No, they didn't know why they were here. Yes, they'd tried that method of escape. _Yes, they'd tried that too._

Ty wasn't bad though. He kept quiet. He listened. He did what he was told. But as he went through the different jobs, as he settled in as a Track-hoe, even three months in, his eyes always drifted to the Maze.

He was strong. He was smart. And he was _fast._ He wasn't ready to be a Runner, but he was ready to start learning.

** One Year, Four Months **

Newt took it slow in the Maze today; Ty trailed a few steps behind, taking it all in. It was pretty standard for someone's first time in the Maze, but Ty was going a bit slow, even taking that into account. Newt didn't mind -- appreciated it even. It meant he was watching. Observing. _Learning._

They hadn't made it far by the time they'd stopped for lunch. They settled themselves in the center of a long corridor on the off chance a Griever was taking a day stroll around the Maze. They'd be able to see them come around the corner and have time to hightail it in the other direction.

Ty was alright, Newt thought, but he wasn't much of a conversationalist. Most of the break was Newt babbling into the air, relaying anecdotes from Glade life, only occasionally receiving acknowledgment or small chuckles from Ty.

He'd just finished telling him, complete with descriptive hand gestures, about the time Alby had sprained his ankle tripping over one of the smaller goats -- Alby had done a spectacular somersault before face planting into the mud, and ended up in bed for a full day (the goat had been perfectly fine, of course,) -- when Ty finally spoke.

"Can I ask you a personal question?" he asked, his brow furrowed and his eyes curious as he looked at Newt. "Feel free to tell me to slim it if you don't want to answer." He waited until Newt nodded before continuing. "You talk about Alby a lot."

When Ty didn't elaborate, Newt chuckled. "Not exactly a question, but yeah, he's my best friend, has been since the beginnin' of all this. Not really surprisin' he's in most of the stories."

Ty smiled faintly, but the curious expression remained. _"Just_ best friends?"

Newt hesitated. No one had ever asked before. Newt and Alby were a pair; it was just a fact of the Glade, same as the Box coming up once a week or the Doors opening every morning. Ty might as well have asked if Minho had a smart mouth.

But Newt hesitated _because_ no one had asked before. It had never been talked about, never been discussed, even between Newt and Alby. It just _was,_ and it felt like it had just _been_ from the very beginning.

None of the words he could think of sounded right. Maybe the right ones were something he'd forgotten.

Newt didn't realize how long he'd been silent until Ty spoke again, his voice nervous. "None of my business, sorry, I'll slim it."

"No, it's fine, reasonable question, I guess." Newt took a deep breath and leaned back against the Maze wall. "Yeah. Yeah, I s'pose you could call us a bit more than _just_ best friends."

"How much more?"

Ty seemed to realize he'd overstepped his bounds when Newt looked at him with an arched eyebrow, and he winced. But Newt laughed, unoffended. _"Now_ you can buggin' slim it. Use your imagination."

Ty smiled in response and went back to his sandwich. Newt decided that he liked Ty.

They ate the rest of their lunch in companionable silence, then packed up to resume Running. Newt pushed a little harder, ran a little faster, but Ty kept up with ease. He was going to make a good Runner. Newt made a point when they got back to see who was overdue for a break.

But he didn't bring up Ty's questions to Alby. It just didn't seem necessary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boom, summary drop.
> 
> Ty is named for Tycho ~~Celchu~~ Brahe.
> 
> Thanks for reading my nonsense.


	8. One Year, Six Months

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **potential triggers:** Discussed suicide attempt.

It had been just another day.

The Runners were out, the work was going smoothly, the most recent Greenie was settling in. There had been no shake ups, no tension, no additional stress. Just another day in the Glade.

Until they heard the scream. From inside the Maze, inaudible to anyone who wasn't near the Doors.

Just loud enough for Alby to recognize it as Newt's.

Alby was gone, inside the Maze before anyone could stop him.

** One Year, Six Months **

Alby hadn't fought his punishment. One week in the Slammer for breaking the rules, for going into the Maze. For saving Newt.

Alby didn't fight it. Didn't regret it, because he'd do it again. Even if it meant a month in the Slammer, even a year. Even if the other Keepers decided Banishment, he wouldn't hesitate to do it again.

He was worried that he _would_ have to do it again.

Nick had let Alby stay the night with Newt before locking him in the Slammer the next morning. Last night, he'd been so focused on Newt -- his leg, his comfort, just _being_ there for him. But now, alone in the Slammer, he was left with his own thoughts.

Newt hadn't hurt himself trying to escape from a Griever like he'd told Clint and Jeff. He hadn't fallen, trying to climb the Maze wall like an idiot.

Newt had jumped. Newt had tried to kill himself. And hadn't been able to promise that he wouldn't do it again.

For three days, Alby slept little, that thought on repeat in his brain. Newt had tried to kill himself. Alby went over the previous week again and again in his mind, looking for the signs that might have warned him about Newt's jump. Newt had been off, there was no doubt there. He'd been unusually agitated, the smallest things irritating him in a way they normally never would have. He'd paced, chewed his nails until they were bleeding. He'd spent more time in the Deadheads, had come back from the Maze later and later, once with the Doors closing right behind him.

Alby felt like an absolute shuck _idiot._ It wasn't that he hadn't noticed. But Newt had his moods, same as anyone else in the Glade, even if Alby was usually the only one that saw them. Every few months, Newt's head brought him down for a night or two. He'd skip dinner, head to bed early, and just lay there, waiting for Alby to come hold him until he fell asleep. Next day, he'd be right as rain.

This had been different, and Alby had thought that maybe Newt had just needed his space.

He was wrong. For three days, he couldn't stop thinking about how _wrong_ he'd been.

Newt had tried to kill himself.

On the fourth day, the door opened, but it wasn't Jack bringing him food.

It was Minho.

Minho closed the door behind him and leaned back against it, arms folded across his chest, frowning at Alby where he was seated on the ground. "What happened out there?"

Alby didn't answer the question, instead arching an eyebrow and asking his own. "How'd you get in here? You steal someone's keys?"

Minho shrugged. "Got Newt's while he's laid up. What happened?"

Alby ignored the question again. "How's Newt doing?"

This time, Minho scowled and stepped forward. "You're my friend, Alby, but I will not hesitate to beat the klunk out of you. What. _Happened?"_

Alby sighed and rested his head back against the wall -- he just didn't have the energy to fight Minho right now. "He said he was running from Grievers, tried to--"

"I know what he said, I wanna know what he told _you._ The others might be buying the story, but I'm not. You know the truth, and now you're gonna tell me."

Alby knew Minho better than to think he'd let this go. But if Newt was sticking to the lie, Alby wasn't going to rat him out. He shook his head. "Ain't my place to say."

"Al--" Minho aborted whatever he was going to say, and clenched his jaw in frustration. Alby had sympathy for him; Minho was both his and Newt's best friend outside of each other, and he knew he was being kept in the dark. Truthfully, he was reacting better than Alby would have in his shoes.

After a long moment, Minho moved closer, and sat on the ground, facing Alby. "Look. I'm not stupid, and even if the rest of those shanks haven't noticed, I have, and I know you have too." He paused, taking an uncharacteristic amount of time to pick his words. "Something's wrong with Newt. Dude hasn't been himself lately, he's been all messed up. Staying later in the Maze -- almost too late. That other night, when he didn't make it back until the last second? He'd been right near the Doors when I came back, just around the corner. He _waited._ It's like the guy's suddenly got a death wish or something."

Alby couldn't help it, he flinched. And Minho had clearly noticed. He frowned harder, leaning in. "His story doesn't make any _sense._ He said he tried to climb to get away from a Griever, and that's the dumbest thing a Runner could do, Newt knows that. The others said they could hear him scream -- he should have been a lot further into the Maze at that time of day. The fact that his scream didn't bring the Griever charging back at him. Everyone else might believe it, but a Runner knows better than that." His voice was softer, gentler when he asked this time. "Alby. What happened out there?"

Alby's chest hurt. He'd never heard Minho so worried, so _sincere_ before. And Alby wanted to tell him. For the past three days, he'd been scared out of his mind for Newt, so full of emotion that he felt like he was going to explode. And even once he got out of the Slammer, he couldn't talk to Newt about it, couldn't put that on him on top of everything else.

"How is he?" Alby asked quietly, finally making eye contact with Minho.

Minho didn't bat the question away this time. "Fine, as far as anyone else can tell. Laughing and joking, but anyone who knows him can see that it's off."

Alby swallowed hard. Of course Newt was acting like he was fine; he wouldn't want to worry anyone. Alby swallowed hard. "You can't tell anyone. _Anyone,_ Minho, not even Newt, I mean it." Minho nodded solemnly.

When Alby spoke again, he had to force the words out. "Newt tried to kill himself."

Minho's eyes widened, but he didn't look all that surprised. Alby continued, his voice tight. "He climbed up and he jumped. Screwed it up by landing on his leg instead of his head but he--" His voice caught. "Minho, Newt tried to _kill himself."_ Alby rested his elbows on his knees and held his head in his hands. It was so much worse now that he'd said it out loud. But at least now it was out there, almost a physical presence between him and Minho.

Newt had tried to kill himself.

Minho was silent while Alby took a few steadying breaths. Frowning hard, he looked at the floor between them as though it had all the answers. "Okay."

_"'Okay?'"_ Alby looked up and he glared at Minho. "That's all you got to say? _'Okay?'"_

"Yeah, _'okay!'"_ Minho snapped back, his voice too loud. "Not sure what else I'm supposed to say after hearing that one of my best friends tried to--"

_"Slim it,"_ Alby all but snarled, and Minho quieted down. They didn't know who was outside, who was close enough to hear, and it was up to the two of them to keep up with Newt's lie, despite knowing the truth. Alby tried to imagine the others' reactions to hearing about the attempt. They'd treat him like he was broken and delicate. Be uncomfortable around him, distance themselves from him, maybe. And that would send Newt back up that wall to try again, faster than anything.

Minho ran a hand through his hair, looking as helpless as Alby felt. "So what do we do?"

Alby shook his head listlessly. "Don't know."

"Do you think he'll try again?"

"Don't know."

Minho huffed, frustrated by the non-answers. "Fine. We'll just have to… keep an eye on him, I guess."

"Guess so." Alby couldn't help it. He already felt like he had failed Newt by not having connected the dots in the first place, and he was scared he was going to miss it again while trapped in here. All he wanted was to curl up in bed with Newt, his ear against the other's chest, listening to his heart and his breathing as reminders that Newt was still _alive._ But until he was out, all he could do was sit here thinking about the fact that Newt almost _wasn't._

He didn't realize that Minho had stood until he spoke. "I'll watch him, Alby. Until you get out and can watch him. Well, I'll still watch him, either way. The other Runners will help -- they know something's up, but I'll make sure they don't talk." He moved to leave, but paused in the open doorway. "If, uh, either of you guys need anything…"

Alby nodded -- Minho was almost as bad at feelings as he was. Then Minho left and Alby was once again alone with his thoughts.

When his week was over, Newt was there waiting when they opened the door, leaning on a crutch as he smiled gently at Alby. Alby dragged him back to the Homestead and curled up with him in their bed, his ear pressed to Newt's chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're curious, I go into a lot more hella non-canon detail on Newt's suicide attempt in [You Were Calling](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17843051%22)
> 
> Thanks for reading my nonsense.


	9. One Year, Seven Months

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Healing a broken leg sucks y'all, let me tell you. I broke mine about nine months ago, and this chapter is too real for me.

The Glade was different. It was quieter. More tense. It was impossible to tell who had figured out that Newt's story had holes in it. The other Runners had probably connected the dots -- at least that it was a lie, but hopefully not the truth. Alby and Minho were the only ones who knew the full story.

Even though Newt spent most of his time out in the Maze before, it was obvious that having him trapped in a bed had affected the dynamic. The Runners looked to Minho for leadership, and he'd reluctantly taken on the position of Keeper temporarily while Newt was healing, but it would take time.

Newt was going crazy.

** One Year, Seven Months **

_"Give me the bloody crutch."_

Alby sighed; the crutch they'd fashioned for Newt's use was across his shoulders, and he gripped the wood in frustration. He had sympathy for Newt, he really did. Poor guy had been stuck in bed for a full month now, and after Running miles every day for the past year and a half, it had to be a nightmare to be so trapped.

Maybe he should have considered that before he jumped, Alby thought coldly, but pushed it away. "What can you even do out there?"

Newt reached out suddenly, and Alby stepped back, keeping the crutch further away. Newt threw himself back on his pillow with a frustrated noise. "I'll peel buggin' potatoes for Frypan, I don't care."

Alby sighed again; it was hard to see Newt like this. He'd dropped an extra note in the Box the week after, asking for something, _anything_ to keep Newt occupied. 

The shanks sent a book of maze puzzles up, and Alby hated them more. He threw the books in the fire without showing Newt.

Setting the crutch down, Alby went to sit on the bed next to Newt and took his hand. "Look, I get that it's hard--"

"You don't," Newt said shortly. But then he gently squeezed Alby's hand, slumping a bit. His voice was quiet when he spoke, slightly strained as though he was on the edge of tears. "I just… I just want to be outside." He looked up at Alby, and Alby's chest hurt at the pleading in his expression. "I made it fine when they were lettin' you out of the Slammer. Just let me sit outside for awhile."

The second he saw Newt's face, Alby knew he was going to give in. He'd been overprotective, he knew that. He'd only forgiven Newt's trip out to the Slammer because he'd selfishly wanted to see him that badly. He did, however, tear Clint and Jeff a new one for letting Newt do it. They'd asked Alby if he had really expected them to be able to stop him.

Alby was still nervous. Newt was the sort who always had to be moving, and with how restless he was, Alby _knew_ that he was going to push too hard.

But at this point, he worried more for Newt's state of mind than his leg.

"Yeah, alright," Alby finally said. "But I'm staying with you, and if you push too much I _will_ carry you back here if I gotta. So don't push too much."

Newt's face positively lit up, smiling in a way Alby hadn't seen in what felt like ages. "Promise." Alby knew that was unlikely to be a promise Newt would follow through on, but it was something.

Alby grabbed Newt's crutch and helped the other to his feet. Once Newt was stable, he gently pushed Alby away, but Alby stayed within arm's reach as Newt hobbled outside.

They spent the rest of the day quietly talking in the shade of a tree, until Newt fell asleep with his head in Alby's lap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to point out that the way Dashner handled Newt's leg doesn't exactly make sense. He insinuates that the injury is not as bad as Newt says/thinks it is, having him not limp as much during intense situations. But if Newt was trying to kill himself, he would have climbed decently high. He obviously didn't land head first, so with his leg taking the brunt of the injury, it would have been a pretty severe break, not just some sort of sprain. (Funny story, I broke my leg stepping off a curb *fingerguns*) Six months is FOR SURE not enough time for him to be up to running miles into the Maze if that's the case.
> 
> I went with the severe injury and chalked it up to a combination of younger people healing faster, WICKED sending up magical healing shit, and intense af adrenaline making him push his leg super hard. So there you go.
> 
> Thanks for reading my nonsense.


	10. One Year, Nine Months

Things settled. It was still strange to have Newt in the Glade so much, but no one commented on it. He was back on his feet, moving around, even if it was with a pronounced limp. Even if he still occasionally needed help from his crutch.

Despite his currently nebulous position, the others still considered him a Keeper, and looked to him for leadership. But he wasn't going to be fit to return to the Maze any time soon.

Minho was the Keeper of the Runners now. The only person who didn't know it was Minho.

** One Year, Nine Months **

Ty was dead. They didn't find his body, but that was expected.

Newt hurt with everyone they lost. Especially the Runners; every single one felt like a personal failure. And Ty, well… Newt tried not to play favorites, but didn't always succeed.

Minho started avoiding Newt, refusing to even meet his eyes. Newt knew why, _understood_ why, but after a week, after Archie returned from the Maze early with one of Ty's shoes, Newt decided enough was enough.

That evening, Newt waited outside the Map Room for Minho to finish with the other Runners. When he exited and saw Newt standing there, Minho froze for a moment, but before he could find an excuse to leave, Newt grabbed his elbow. "C'mon. Let's talk."

"I gotta--"

"It can wait." Newt's tone didn't leave room for argument.

They didn't talk until they were settled on the ground out in the Deadheads, just out of sight of the Wall and the graveyard. Newt massaged at his ankle for a moment, putting his thoughts in order, but Minho surprised him by speaking first.

"Look, I'm sorry, all right?"

Newt looked over at him with a faint smile. "Yeah? What for?"

"For--" Minho frowned, struggling with the right words. "I shoulda done something. Gone back out while there was still time, or… I dunno, _something."_

"Minho," Newt said gently, grabbing Minho's shoulder, not letting go even when the other tried to shake him off. "It's not your fault. You _know_ how it works. Doesn't make it easier, I know. Trust me, I buggin' _know."_ He sighed and let his hand drop. "When I was Keeper, you know how many Runners I lost?"

"Seven." Of course Minho knew. They _all_ knew exactly how many of them had been lost, inside the Maze and out. After a moment, the implication of Newt's words connected, and Minho turned to look at him, frowning. "Wait, what the klunk is that supposed to mean, when you _were_ Keeper?"

Well, Newt hadn't meant to drop it quite like that, but no time like the present. "You said it yourself, back when we started this whole buggin' thing. Keeper should be the best." He gestured to his leg. "And that sure ain't me anymore."

"Yeah, because you _broke your shuck leg,"_ Minho snapped back. "Sure, I'm standing in, but once you're healed and Running again--"

"I am _never_ going back in that bloody Maze, Minho, not even once I'm healed, so get that idea out of your shank head." Newt's voice was harsher than he meant for it to be. Minho looked away quickly, and Newt's gut clenched. He might as well put it all out there. "...You know what happened out there -- what I did."

Minho didn't look at him. "What do you mean?"

"I know Alby told you." Minho's jaw clenched. Alby hadn't told Newt as much, but he didn't have to. Newt had been able to tell from the way Minho had acted around him for the past three months. Watching him closely, checking in with him, being far more careful with his words than he'd ever been before. By not asking questions about just how Newt had broken his leg. The other Runners hadn't either, which meant Minho had told them not to.

Newt didn't mind. It meant he didn't have to lie to them.

Minho remained silent, and Newt sighed and looked forward. "Probably best that you know anyway. Understand why I'm not goin' back out there?"

"...Yeah. Guess so," Minho said with a vague shrug.

"Only makes sense, makin' you Keeper, considerin' you already are. Talked to Nick about it last night. There'll be a Gathering soon to make it official." Newt looked back over at Minho for a moment, then bumped the other's shoulder with his own. "Nick says he still wants me at Gatherings, even if I'm not a Keeper anymore, so don't be scared, all right?"

Minho scoffed.

Newt smiled. "Good that."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Archie is named for Archimedes of Syracuse.
> 
> Thanks for reading my nonsense.


	11. Two Years

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only the tiniest bit of canon fudging here.
> 
> **potential triggers:** suicide

Chuck was the youngest that had ever been sent up in the Box. The kid couldn't have been more than twelve, _maybe_ thirteen. He'd been understandably terrified, crying for his parents for three days straight.

They were all angry, but none of them could match Nick's absolute fury that the Creators had sent up someone so young. He'd disappeared into the woods, and was found a few hours later having punched a tree until his hands were bloody. He'd snarled at everyone to get back to work, then disappeared again.

The next day, he was unfocused, wandering around the Glade as if he was trying to figure out what he was supposed to be doing. The day after, he holed up in the Homestead, snapping at anyone who came looking for him to get lost.

That night, it was Gally who found him.

Gally came rushing out of the Homestead, blood on his hands. Alby and Newt were the nearest Keepers, and he all but dragged them back inside and up the stairs. To Nick's room.

Nick was curled on the floor in a pool of blood. Dead. He'd slit his wrists.

** Two Years **

Bile rose in Newt's throat, and he covered his hand with his mouth, trying to not throw up. Even though his body was reacting, his brain couldn't quite register what he was seeing. Nick. Nick was dead. Their leader, the one who'd gotten them through two years in this hell, had killed himself. Hand still over his mouth, Newt looked at Alby.

Alby was frozen, just staring down at Nick's body, and even Newt, who could normally read Alby so well, couldn't begin to fathom what was going through his mind.

Gally was shaking as he paced a bit, running his hands through his hair, not realizing (or maybe not caring) about the blood sticking in it. _"Why?"_ was all he managed to say, his voice tight, as though he was on the edge of a panic attack. Newt couldn't blame him -- he wasn't far off from one himself.

"Chuck," Alby quietly said. "Kid that young -- maybe he couldn't… Maybe it was just too much." He raised his his head, looking between Gally and Newt. "What do we tell everyone?"

A shiver went down Newt's spine at the detachment in Alby's voice. He was all too aware that this was how Alby compartmentalized -- business first, emotion later, when it was only him and Newt. But that didn't make it any less chilling in the face of something like this.

"We can't tell them," Gally said quickly. "We'll say he -- I don't know, that he went out in the Maze or something."

Newt's head snapped up, looking at Gally in shock. "What? No, we can't bloody _lie_ to them like that." He felt his stomach churning still, but the urge to vomit had receded some.

"Everyone's going to freak out, we _have_ to!"

"The hell we do!"

"Slim it." Alby's voice, quiet and stern, cut through the argument. He was frowning, looking intently at Nick's body, as though studying it. After a long moment, he spoke again. "We'll tell them. Someone will figure it out if we don't. If they know we lied, it's gonna be total chaos." He turned to Newt, but looked past him. "Get everyone together. Gally, go grab the other Keepers."

Gally looked as though he wanted to argue, but left all the same.

Newt carefully stepped towards Alby, reaching out a hand. "Alby--"

Alby moved just out of reach. "Later," he said, his voice quavering ever so slightly.

Newt hesitated, then nodded and left.

He collected the Gladers together outside the Homestead as the Keepers went in with Gally. Twenty minutes later, Alby and the others emerged.

The announcement of Nick's suicide went… about as Newt would have expected. Some boys were upset, some angry, and most asked questions that had no answers. Chuck clung to Newt's shirt, and Newt put an arm around him as the younger boy cried into his side. He hoped, _prayed,_ that Chuck didn't think it was because of him.

They cleaned up Nick's body as best they could before Alby, Gally, and Winston took him out to the Deadheads to bury him. That night, after solemnly watching Alby scratch Nick's name off the Wall, every last one of them turned in early.

Neither Alby or Newt slept that night, instead just holding each other in silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the only clue we get towards how Nick died was that he was 'killed.' At this point, not much other than the Grievers could kill a Glader, except for doing something stupid. After thinking about it for awhile, I just thought this was more interesting.
> 
> Thanks for reading my nonsense.


	12. Two Years, One Month

The Keepers gathered the day after Nick's suicide, and Alby was unanimously voted their new Leader. Alby hesitated, but didn't protest. Just nodded once in acceptance. Graham was chosen to replace him as Keeper of the Baggers.

The rest of the boys in the Glade had all assumed it was going to be Alby anyway.

 **Two Years, One Month**

Newt had spent most of the past two years in a perpetual state of concern about Alby. It was in his nature to worry, and Alby just took so much on himself. But at least Alby would come to him at night, let his exhaustion and stress out, and let Newt do his best to soothe it away.

Except he wasn't doing that anymore. He came to bed and slept on his side, facing away from Newt. Even when Newt spooned up behind him, tried to hold him reassuringly, tried to massage the tension from his neck and shoulders, Alby didn't relax into him.

Newt was worried. It had been nearly a month now, and Alby seemed stretched so thin, even if the others didn't notice. It couldn't go on like this, not after Nick, not after Newt's own attempt at doing the same. They needed Alby.

 _Newt_ needed Alby. But right now, Alby needed Newt, even if he didn't realize it.

Alby was late coming to bed, as usual, and Newt sat up waiting for him. When he entered, Newt quickly stood, moving to gently press him against the closed door. He took Alby's face in his hands, not giving him time to pull away before kissing him, warm and deep. It had been weeks without any real sort of physical intimacy, and Newt couldn't stand it anymore. Not when they both needed it so badly.

It took a few moments before Alby truly reciprocated, bringing his hands to Newt's hips as he arched up into the kiss. Newt turned them around and guided Alby back towards the bed, then finally broke the kiss. "I'm here," he muttered against Alby's lips, and gently pushed him back to lay down on the bed.

Newt usually preferred to not take lead, but tonight he was taking care of Alby.

Afterwards, Newt laid with his head on Alby's bare chest, just listening to the other's heartbeat. Alby had one arm around him, the other pillowed behind his head as he stared at the ceiling, obviously deep in thought. Newt had hoped he'd be a _bit_ more relaxed, but it was the most he'd been in weeks. It was something at least, and right now, Newt would take what he could get.

He let the silence go for awhile, then sat up a bit, propping himself up on an elbow to look down at Alby. His voice was soft but stern when he spoke. "You don't have to take it all on yourself, y'know."

Alby frowned, still not looking at Newt. "Thought that was the whole point of bein' leader."

Newt scowled. "You stupid bloody _shank._ Look at me." He didn't even give Alby a chance, using his hand to turn Alby's face toward him, to _make_ the other to look at him. "You listen and you listen right buggin' well. I'm not gonna let you take all of the Glade on your shoulders when I'm here with a set of my own ready to help. And I am _not_ goin' to let you push me away while you try to do it all by yourself."

He kissed Alby, hard at first, but it quickly melted into something softer when Alby kissed him back, using the arm still around Newt to pull him closer. At the very least, Alby wasn't stone-walling him anymore.

The kiss ended, and Newt looked down at Alby. This time, Alby was looking back up at him. "I'm appointin' myself as _your_ Keeper. I'll call a Gathering to do it if I have to. But I'm here, Alby. I'm here for _you."_

It took a long moment of Alby looking at him, watching him, eyes locked while they seemed to search into Newt's very core. But then it was there -- the faintest, tiniest smile -- and Newt's heart leapt.

Alby lifted his hand to Newt's face and gently slid his thumb along his cheekbone. "My own Keeper, huh?"

"That's right." Newt turned his face into Alby's hand and placed a kiss on his palm. "Keeper of the bloody Keeper of the bloody Glade."

With a deep breath, relaxing at least a little bit more, Alby pulled Newt back to his chest, wrapping his arms tightly around him. "S'pose I can live with that."

Newt smiled and rested his head on Alby's shoulder. "Good that. Not exactly like I was givin' you a choice anyway."

Alby laughed softly, and Newt exhaled in relief. They would do this together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boom, sort of title drop.
> 
> Graham is named for Alexander Graham Bell.
> 
> Thanks for reading my nonsense.


	13. Two Years, One Month, Ten Days

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go, getting into book nitty gritty.

Thomas was the next one to come up in the Box. Then the girl, just the day after. Ben's attack on Thomas, his Banishment, the _dead shucking Griever._

Everything had changed.

** Two Years, One Month, Ten Days **

"You can't be serious. You can't be buggin' _serious."_

Alby sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. All he wanted right now was to go to sleep. The past three days had been the longest of his life -- including the ones he couldn't remember, he was sure of it -- and it was going to be another long one tomorrow that was going to start early. He wanted to go to bed, but Newt had other ideas.

"Yeah, Newt, I'm serious. You heard what Minho found, and if you think I ain't gonna go investigate a dead Griever, especially with all this other weird klunk goin' on, you got another thing coming."

They were in their bedroom, but Alby knew he wasn't going to get any sleep until Newt's anxiety ran its course as much as it could. He sat on the bed, half undressed as he watched Newt pace in front of him.

Newt wasn't looking at him. "And why does it have to be you? When was the last time you were even _in_ the bloody Maze?"

_Six months,_ Alby wanted to snap, but he wasn't going to bring up Newt's jump, not now. "Two years," he said instead, trying to keep exhaustion from his voice. "And I'm goin' with Minho, who _has_ been in the Maze, nearly every day for those two years."

"Then let Minho handle it!"

"You trust Minho to make a call on it?" Minho was smart, and knew the Maze better than anyone else, but decision making wasn't exactly his best skill. "I gotta be the one to take a look and we both know it. It'll be in 'n out, just a few hours all right?"

Newt didn't look reassured, but he didn't argue. "I don't like it. Two Greenies in two days -- one of 'em a half dead _girl_ \-- then Ben flips out on Tommy so bad we have to bloody _Banish_ him, and now we just randomly find a dead Griever? Something's goin' on, Alby. And what if…"

He trailed off, now looking less anxious and more _scared_ than anything. He sat heavily on the bed next to Alby, looking down at his hands twisted together in his lap. "...This how you felt when I was a Runner?"

Alby's chest clenched. He hadn't made the connection before -- he knew _exactly_ how Newt was feeling. He turned and slid his arms around Newt, pulling the other tight against him. "Every day," he muttered quietly into Newt's hair. "But it's just like you said back then -- I'm the one who's gotta do it."

Newt gave a humorless laugh. "Not fair to turn my words on me." He clung to Alby and pressed his face into his neck. "Just… be careful. And make sure you come right back to me, all right?"

"In 'n out," Alby repeated. "Promise." He gently kissed Newt's head. "C'mon now. Sleep. Gotta get goin' early so I can be back as quick as possible."

Newt nodded, but didn't release Alby for another long moment. "Right. Good that."

They slept tightly intertwined, and Newt followed him to the doors the next morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading my nonsense


	14. Two Years, One Month, Twelve Days

They had been _so close._ And Thomas had run in after them. If Newt had been just a little faster, he would have been trapped on the other side of those Doors as well.

Alby had gone after him. He should have gone after Alby.

** Two Years, One Month, Twelve Days **

If the day waiting had been a nightmare, that night was an absolute _hell._

He was at least left alone for it. The rest of the Keepers had ushered the other boys away, trying to get them to go back to business as usual -- well, as usual as it ever was after someone was left in the Maze.

But this time, it wasn't just _someone._ It was Minho. It was _Alby._ And it was even Tommy, the brand new shank who was somehow different from the others. The image of Minho dragging the unconscious Alby towards the closing Doors was seared into Newt's mind, there every time he closed his eyes. Had he already been dead, even before the Doors closed?

Newt had never been so scared. He couldn't imagine that even in his life before the Glade, he'd been this _scared._

He stayed by the Doors the entire night. _Everything has changed,_ he kept telling himself. Maybe the certain death of a night in the Maze had changed too. If anyone could survive out there, it was Minho, and maybe between him and Tommy, all three of them would make it back.

_Please let it have changed._

The Doors opened, and the Runners went out look for them. _Their remains,_ everyone knew, but no one dared to say it to Newt. And even as the other Gladers went about their day, Newt waited. It went against every instinct he had to not go into the Maze himself to search for them, but Newt waited.

An hour after the Doors opened, Thomas and Minho returned. Newt's heart plummeted when he didn't see Alby, but then Thomas showed him where he'd left Alby on the wall.

Alive. Stung, but alive.

Newt managed to keep it together until they got Alby the Serum.

The Med-Jacks had left, and Newt sat next to the bed, clenching Alby's hand tightly, unable to hold back his tears. Alby was back, he was _alive,_ but he still had the Changing to go through. He'd thrash and seize and scream for hours in unimaginable pain. No one had ever gone this long after being stung, before getting the Serum. Would it be worse? Would it even work?

And if he woke up, would he be the same?

It was a stupid question -- no, he wouldn't be. No one ever was.

"You stupid shank," Newt whispered. "Just a few hours, you said, you bloody _promised."_ He bent over the bed, pressing his forehead to Alby's hand. His chest heaved in quiet sobs. "I can't do this without you, Alby…"

He cried for what felt like hours, quietly begging for Alby to just _live._ Even after he was done crying, he stayed by the bed, clutching Alby's hand. He watched Alby's skin go clammy, watch his breaths get shorter, could feel his pulse get faster. Newt breathed in relief, despite the terror that he knew was imminent.

The Changing was starting. Alby was going to live.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading my nonsense.


	15. Two Years, One Month, Fourteen Days

Alby was awake.

He looked like hell and was an extra level of bad-tempered, but he was awake.

** Two Years, One Month, Fourteen Days **

Newt tried to not be hurt by Alby kicking him out of the room to talk to Tommy. Alby was sick, just reeling off the Changing -- he'd woken up faster than anyone before him. At least he hadn't tried to attack Tommy the way Ben had, so that was something. Newt didn't have time to be hurt, anyway. With Alby out of commission, the Gladers instinctively looked to him for leadership.

He hated it. But there wasn't time for that either.

Newt had spent the past two nights sleeping on the floor next to the bed. He wanted nothing more than to curl up with Alby, hold him until all of this was over, but he knew better. He hadn't forgotten Hank, and how unstable he'd had been after the Changing. He hadn't forgotten the violence that had led to Hank's Banishment. He never would.

He only startled slightly the next morning when he woke up to a hand in his hair, and Alby leaning over the bed to give him a faint, exhausted smile. "Hey, shank."

"Hey…" Newt breathed, then rose to his knees to kneel next to the bed, resting his hand on Alby's cheek. "How ya feelin'?"

Alby groaned softly. "Like I drank Gally's entire stash last night." He took Newt's hand and shifted back, pulling Newt up into the bed with him.

Newt let him. "If you did that, you'd be--" He stopped his words in their tracks, unable to finish the weak joke. Instead, he slid his arms around Alby, holding him tight. "Gave me a right scare, you did."

"'M sorry," Alby mumbled, tucking his head under Newt's chin. "Didn't mean to."

"Yeah, well…" Newt trailed off. He was relieved, but his chest still ached, remembering Alby's screams, his thrashing as he tried desperately to choke himself. Alby had claimed it wasn't him, but that didn't change the fact that he'd tried to _kill_ himself.

He thought about how he'd tried to do the same just months ago. Understanding what he must have put Alby through made his gut twist.

"I was scared." Newt could feel the tears starting to leak from his eyes, even as he clenched them shut. "Thought I'd lost you to the Maze, then maybe to the Changing, and then almost to your own buggin' _hands."_ He started to quietly sob, and he felt Alby hold him tighter. "I was so bloody _scared,_ Alby."

"I know." Alby pulled back to look at Newt, his hands going to the other's face in reassurance. "I know, Newt. I didn't-- I just was tryin' to tell Thomas--"

 _"Don't,"_ Newt interrupted, grabbing Alby's hands tightly. "Don't try to tell me, anyone, _ever."_ He kissed Alby, hard and desperate. "I'm not gonna risk losing you again."

Alby swallowed, then nodded. He hugged Newt tightly, and Newt wasn't sure which one of them he was trying to reassure.

It was approaching wake up by the time Alby tried to pull away. "Should get up and--"

"Not happenin'." Newt kissed his forehead before getting out of bed. "I can handle another day in your shoes -- or at least a few more hours while you get some more sleep."

It was a testament to how tired Alby actually was that he didn't argue, and instead nodded before rolling over and falling back asleep.

Newt couldn't help it; he was smiling when he locked Tommy in the Slammer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From the first time I read it, Alby kicking Newt out of the room to talk to Thomas fucked me up.
> 
> Thanks for reading my nonsense.


	16. Two Years, One Month, Sixteen Days

The sky was grey.

They didn't receive their weekly supplies.

And worst of all, _the Doors weren't closing._

** Two Years, One Month, Sixteen Days **

_Protect the maps._

Newt wasn't sure if Alby remembered saying the words after his fit, but with everything else happening, they gave Newt chills. They stuck in his mind as he and Alby organized the Gladers, trying to keep everyone calm as they prepared for whatever was going to happen tonight.

_Protect the maps._

They had to be moved. And right now, Minho was the only person Newt trusted to do it.

Drawing as little attention as he could, Newt slipped off to find Minho, who was currently carrying weapons up towards the Homestead. "Hey. Minho." Newt gestured for the other to follow him.

With a look of confusion, Minho passed the knives he was carrying off to Archie, then followed Newt. "What's up?"

Newt didn't speak until they were almost to the forest. He knew he was being ominous, maybe even a bit dramatic, but this was _important._ "I need you to move the maps."

Minho arched an eyebrow at him. "What, you think the Grievers are gonna come in and shred them?"

Newt didn't appreciate Minho's sass, but let it go. "I don't know. We just-- we need to keep them safe. The whole bloody Glade's freakin' out right now, and we need to keep the maps _safe."_

"From the other guys?" Minho obviously wasn't buying it.

"I don't know." He hesitated. "It's… Somethin' Alby said has me worried. After the Changing, he had some sort of fit. He tried--" Newt shook his head. "He said to protect the maps. Dunno why, but better safe than sorry."

Minho folded his arms across his chest, carefully regarding Newt. At least he seemed to be taking it seriously now. "So Alby told you to move 'em?"

Newt clenched his fists, carefully not looking at Minho. "...No."

"Uh-huh. That's what I thought." With a sigh, Minho dropped his arms. "Okay. What's going on, Newt? I've never seen you this spooked."

Newt hated how well Minho knew him. "There's somethin' wrong with Alby, and it ain't just the bloody Changing." He ran his hands through his hair, all of his frustration and worry and _fear_ tumbling out of him. "He woke up and demanded to talk to _Tommy_ and kicked me out of the buggin' room. He's _never_ hidden somethin' from me before. But whatever he saw messed him up good. He tried to talk to Tommy about it and started _stranglin'_ himself, so I can't even _ask._ And all this klunk going on, I just--" Newt couldn't hide the pain in his voice. "He's _different,_ Minho, and I don't have a bloody clue what to do about it!"

"Hey, okay, chill, dude." Minho moved forward to grab Newt's shoulder. "I'll move the maps, no one will know but you and me, we'll keep the other guys focused on getting the Homestead ready for tonight. Then we'll grab Thomas and Alby, and figure it out from there. Good that?"

Newt slumped, suddenly exhausted, the stress of the past week, of having to _lead_ catching up to him. "Good that."

Minho awkwardly patted him on the shoulder, then headed back towards the Homestead. Newt stayed back a few long moments, breathing deeply in an attempt to collect himself before following.

There was a lot that still needed to be done before night settled in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Minho's not _always_ an idiot. Just _usually._
> 
> Thanks for reading my nonsense.


	17. Two Years, One Month, Twenty-One Days

Gally was dead. Zart was dead. Adam, Dave, all of them were _dead._ And after tonight, there'd be another one of them on that list, dead. Thomas had been stung, and Alby was so far emotionally removed he might as well have been gone. Everything had gone to hell.

Newt hated being in charge.

** Two Years, One Month, Twenty-One Days **

Just a few minutes. He just needed a few bloody minutes.

Newt tried to keep things functioning as well as he could. Which wasn't very, considering the circumstances. If Tommy didn't wake up soon with any of the memories he was trying to regain by getting himself _stung,_ Newt didn't know what they were going to do. If Tommy would be able to tell them at all, anyway.

It was the third day before Newt managed to sneak away for just a little bit of time for himself. The only place he could find to be alone was near the wall; no one wanted to look at the recently scratched off names. He was having a hard time himself not glancing up, and sat on the ground with his elbows on his knees, fingers laced on the back of his head in an attempt to keep his gaze on the ground.

Just a few minutes. Which was all he got before he heard someone approaching. He took a deep breath, readying himself for another crisis before looking up.

It was Alby. Newt almost wished it was someone coming to tell him that the Grievers were infiltrating the Glade during the day now, and felt guilty.

The two of them had hardly spoken over the past few days since the Map Room had been burned. At first, Newt had wondered if it was because Alby felt ashamed that he hadn't been able to protect the maps, but Alby had shaken him off when Newt had tried to reassure him. After that, Alby grew more and more distant with each day.

They hadn't shared a bed since the other Gladers had to be put up in their room. Newt missed him so deeply it made his chest ache, but he didn't know how to cross the void that had opened up between them.

He still hadn't told Alby that they'd moved the maps.

Without a word, Alby sat down -- not next to Newt, but about five feet away, facing him. He looked vaguely pained, as though he was struggling to talk to Newt without knowing what to say. Newt knew the feeling.

"Hey," Alby finally managed, but he wasn't looking at Newt, instead focusing on some point just behind him.

"Hey," Newt returned. When Alby didn't say anything, he continued. "What's up?"

Alby shook his head slightly. "Nothing." After a moment, he met Newt's eyes, but the dullness, the lack of Alby's usual ferocity in them made Newt want to cry. "You?"

Newt swallowed hard before shaking his head. "Nothin'." He couldn't let out his anxieties and stress, not when the person sitting across from him felt so much like a stranger -- more so with every passing day.

That pained look still on his features, Alby nodded faintly before looking down. After a moment, he glanced back up. "Do you need anything?"

 _I need **you,**_ Newt wanted to say, but he held the words back, scared of pushing Alby further away. Alby was trying, but seemed just as lost as Newt.

So instead, Newt shrugged. "A half second of peace?" he said with a weak smile. Alby didn't return it, and Newt sighed. "Just needed a few buggin' minutes to breathe. Just always somethin' right now, y'know?"

"Yeah, I s'pose." Alby frowned hard, his jaw clenching. Newt wanted to go to him, hold him, kiss him, tell him that whatever Alby was going through, they could handle it together. But the fear of rejection -- a fear he'd never before experienced -- stopped him. So he waited, silently begging Alby to say something, _anything._

Alby stayed silent, glaring at the ground.

Finally, Newt just shook his head. "Back to it, then." He stood, brushing dirt off his pants to head back to the Homestead.

Alby caught his hand as he tried to walk by. "Newt," he said quietly, gripping it tightly. He didn't look up at Newt. "I'm sorry."

He sounded on the edge of tears, and Newt felt his own eyes start to water. He didn't know what Alby was apologizing for, but it didn't matter. It was something.

But that didn't mean that Newt suddenly knew what to say. "I know," he whispered, just loud enough for Alby to hear.

He gently squeezed Alby's hand before leaving.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They're so lost u guiz.
> 
> Thanks for reading my nonsense.


	18. Two Years, One Month, Twenty-Two Days, Six Hours

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I broke it down into hours.

The Keepers had all agreed. They would leave tonight.

The only question was who would go with them.

** Two Years, One Month, Twenty-Two Days, Six Hours ******

********

Newt had to convince Alby somehow. He wasn't going to take no for an answer, even if he had to knock him over the head and drag him through the Maze.

********

_Protect the maps._ Some part of the old Alby, the one Newt knew inside and out, was still there, had wanted to save their only means of escape, even from himself.

********

Newt didn't care how scared Alby was of what was out there, he was _not_ going to leave him behind.

********

He found Alby out behind the scorched Map Room, restringing his bow. Alby didn't look up when Newt approached, and Newt hesitated, not wanting to startle him. But even without seeing him, Alby somehow knew who was there. "You don't understand what it's like out there, Newt." His voice was tight, frustrated.

********

"I know we don't have a buggin' chance if we stay here." Newt clenched his jaw, ready for the inevitable fight. "Grievers are gonna pick us off one by one if we stay, and that's a fact. Don't know 'bout you, but I'm not going to roll over and die without a fight."

********

Alby finally looked up from his bow with a glare so fierce it made Newt take a step back. "And since when have you been so eager to live, huh?"

********

Newt's heart jumped into his throat, and for a moment, he couldn't breathe. Alby had never brought up Newt's suicide attempt before, not once since it had happened. Newt hadn't expected him to suddenly throw it in his face.

********

And Alby didn't let up, either. He all but threw his bow on the ground and moved towards Newt. He stopped a few feet away, but Newt still stepped back again. "I dragged you outta that Maze when you threw yourself off the wall because you couldn't handle the fact that there was nothing out there. But what _is_ out there? Is _worse_ than anything they can throw at us in here." He moved forward again, crowding Newt up against the wall of the Map Room. "I _saw_ it, Newt. The Scorch, the Flare, _all_ of it."

********

Alby was only inches from him, and Newt couldn't decide if he wanted to push the other away or wrap his arms around him. He wanted to ask what Alby meant, what he'd _seen,_ but fear stopped him. Fear that Alby might have another fit, but also fear that whatever Alby told him might make him lose his own resolve.

********

Newt was going to get out of this bloody Maze, and he'd drag Alby kicking and screaming with him if he had to.

********

"Alby--" Newt started, still unsure of what he was going to say to convince him.

********

But Alby shook his head and stepped away, going back to grab his bow. His shoulders were slumped, all the fight suddenly gone out of him. "When are we leaving?"

********

Somehow, out of everything, _that_ surprise was what caused Newt to feel like he'd had the wind knocked out of him. "W-what? You're comin' with?"

********

"That's what you want, ain't it?"

********

"Well, of course, but--"

********

"Told you I ain't fit to be the leader any more." He shouldered his bow and turned back to Newt without looking at him. "So if you say we're going, we're going. If you got a death wish, wanna march out into hell, fine. Maybe I'll be able to pull you outta the Maze one more time."

********

Without giving Newt a chance to respond, he left.

********

Alby was coming with them without argument, in spite of how scared he was. Newt should have felt triumphant -- at the very least _relieved_ \-- but all he felt was a cold fear in his gut.

********

He was nearly back to the Homestead before he realized he was shaking.

********

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading my nonsense.


	19. Two Years, One Month, Twenty-Two Days, Ten Hours

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _fuk_

The majority of the Gladers gathered around the Doors, waiting. They were leaving the Glade tonight, all heading into the Maze to find their way out.

They were all Runners again.

** Two Years, One Month, Twenty-Two Days, Ten Hours **

There had only been one time in his memory that Alby had been more scared than he was now. And that one time was the only reason he was going into the Maze tonight.

He watched as Newt kept himself busy with preparations -- making sure supplies and weapons were distributed, making sure the other Gladers were eating despite having taken only a few bites of food himself. He never did eat much when he was anxious.

Newt was distracting himself. And not well, considering the way Alby kept seeing him stare out the Doors of the Maze. They'd be leaving within minutes.

Alby grabbed an apple from the remaining food supply and approached Newt as he stood away from the others, double (triple) checking the extra canteens. "Newt."

The look of wariness Newt gave him made Alby's heart ache, but considering how he'd been acting lately, it was completely understandable. "What is it?" Newt's voice was worried, obviously just waiting for the next crisis to come crashing down on them. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," Alby quickly reassured him. "Just, here--" He grabbed Newt's wrist and pressed the apple into his hand. "You never eat enough when things are crazy, so just eat the shuck apple, all right?"

It was a weak attempt at normalcy, Alby knew. But looking after Newt was second nature, and with everything going to hell around them, after everything that had happened, with what they were about to _do,_ Alby was desperate to hold onto whatever little bit of normal he could.

He didn't let go, even as Newt stared at the apple in confusion. After a moment, Newt nodded and swallowed hard. "I-- yeah. Right. Gotta keep up our energy. Long run ahead of us." His eyes drifted towards the Doors again.

Before he could properly look, Alby used Newt's arm to pull him close, their bodies flush. He put his hand on Newt's cheek, forcing the other to look at him. "Don't look at the walls," Alby said quietly. "Just keep looking forward -- _always forward._ I'll be there behind you, watching your back."

Newt's eyes were wide in shock, and Alby understood why. The few conversations they'd had over the past week had been so stilted, so _awkward._ They'd barely touched, barely even looked each other in the eye.

"Alby…" Newt said weakly, tears welling in his eyes.

Alby's hand slid from Newt's cheek to the back of his head, fingers tangling in his hair to pull their foreheads together. "Always forward," he muttered. "You're gonna make it through, Newt. I promise."

With a stifled sob, Newt threw his arms around Alby, clinging to him as if the world was falling apart around them. Which wasn't far from the truth.

It took Alby a moment before he properly hugged Newt back, breathing deeply into the other's shoulder. He missed this. He missed _Newt._ But everything was different now, and it would never be the same.

He made sure Newt ate his apple before they left for the Maze.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading my nonsense.


	20. Two Years, One Month, Twenty-Two Days, Thirteen Hours

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any time I mention the bus ride it's always _That Fucking Bus Ride._

Alby was dead. Had sacrificed himself, walking straight into the Grievers hoping that he would be the only one to die.

It hadn't worked. He had died for _nothing._

** Two Years, One Month, Twenty-Two Days, Thirteen Hours **

The world moved in a haze.

Fighting the Grievers, escaping the Maze, being rescued from the compound -- it all was a blur now, though it had been far too real at the time. And now, trapped on this bus, one thought kept pounding at the inside of Newt's brain.

Alby was dead.

The moment replayed in slow motion behind his eyelids. Alby walking towards the Grievers, Tommy holding Newt back as he screamed, Alby's _blood._

Alby hadn't even looked back at Newt.

Newt hurt deeper than he knew was possible. There had been no time to mourn, no time to truly process all that had happened. And now that all he had was time, he had no idea how to even begin to do so.

For the first hour, no one spoke to him, which he appreciated. He didn't know what there was to say. But then he felt someone sit next to him.

Minho.

He could feel Minho watching him, feel the unease rolling off his friend. It took a long moment before the other spoke, softer than Newt had ever heard him. "I'm sorry we couldn't stop."

Newt shook his head listlessly. "You were right, there wasn't time."

"Still." Minho sighed and slumped back in his seat. "Can't believe the shank threw himself at the Grievers."

Newt shut his eyes tightly. "He… he was tryin'..." He could feel himself shaking, hear the words catching in his throat. Everything hurt.

He flinched when he felt Minho's hand on his shoulder, but didn't pull away. "He was trying to save us," Minho finished.

"Stupid, bloody idiot." His voice was quiet and shaky. "Didn't help anythin'. He would've done more good helpin' us fight instead of gettin' himself killed for _nothin'."_ So many had died. And Newt kept wondering how many of them might have lived if they'd just had Alby there with them.

Newt wondered if Alby had intended to sacrifice himself all along, on the off chance that it might save the rest of them. He wondered if Alby had done it because he couldn't bear to face the world outside the Maze.

He wondered if Alby had thought of him. Even if he had, would it have stopped him? Alby had promised that Newt would get out of the Maze, but hadn't said anything about himself.

Newt didn't realize he was crying until he felt Minho's arm around his shoulders, and he slumped against the other. "Bloody hell, Minho, he's gone, Alby's gone, it wasn't like Gally, he wasn't taken, he's _dead."_

Minho's own voice was tight with pain. "I know, man. I know."

They'd lost so many people. All of them had lost friends. Carl. Louis. Archie. Chuck. When they got to wherever they were being taken, they were going to have to pull together to face whatever was next.

But for the rest of the bus ride, leaning against Minho, Newt ignored all of that and just let himself mourn Alby.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Louis was named for Louis Pasteur.
> 
> Thanks for reading my nonsense.


	21. Day One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I almost forgot to post this last one.

Minho was going to find whatever shank had decided to tag him as 'the Leader' and beat the klunk out of them.

He hadn't missed the way Newt's expression had closed off when they examined each other's tattoos. He knew better than to think that Newt saw it as some sort of slight, which meant that it had to have something to do with Alby.

That was a wound that was going to be hurting the both of them for awhile. But right now, they had to focus on preparing for the Scorch tomorrow. Newt had caught Minho and Thomas in the bathroom and the three of them talked about the little bit they knew about the outside world, hoping to forge some sort of game plan, but they couldn't put together much.

Until Newt started going off about their shuck tattoos, insisting that Minho was supposed to be in charge. Yeah, that wasn't happening.

Saying he needed to talk to Minho alone, Newt ushered Thomas out of the bathroom and closed the door behind him, then turned to Minho with a frown. "You really goin' to fight me on this?"

Minho leaned back against the sink, arms folded across his chest. "Yeah, I'm gonna fight you. You're already our leader, dude, not me."

Newt ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "Look, they've got all this plotted out already, includin' each of our parts. The only way we're gonna get out of this is if we play by their rules. With all the weird klunk they've already thrown at us, I'm not interested in testin' them on it."

"No way, man, I'm not doing it." Minho knew that Newt didn't like being in charge, but he'd do it when it was needed. And was _good_ at it. Just today, without even thinking, he'd started rationing the food, trying to make sure no one ate themselves sick and that they'd have some for the trip. Minho had been the one to put Newt's name forward as Keeper of the Runners back when they were first in the Glade. And even after Newt had tried to-- after he'd hurt himself and stepped down, he'd still been one of their leaders. The Keeper who wasn't a Keeper. _Glade Mom._

Newt had been Alby's second-in-command. With Alby gone, Newt was the only one that made sense.

Not that Newt saw it that way. "You bloody--" He gritted his teeth and took a deep breath. "It's not like I'm not goin' to be helping. But if some of the guys are lookin' to me while others are lookin' to you 'cause of the tattoo, there's gonna be problems."

"Not if I just tell them to do what you say," Minho replied with a shrug. He didn't understand why Newt was digging his heels in so hard about this. _"You're_ our leader, Newt, everybody knows it. The only reason I was ever even Keeper of the Runners was because you couldn't do it."

"I _can't_ do it," Newt snapped, his voice a hiss. His frustration had shifted to a sort of exhaustion Minho had never seen in a person before. It wasn't the sort of physical exhaustion that came from running miles or being forced to go days without food. It was deeper than that.

Newt sighed and dropped to sit on the floor, arms folded across his raised knees as he leaned his head back against the door. "I'm not fit to be in charge, Minho. I'm done. With all of it."

It occured to Minho that he _had_ seen this before. Twice, actually. He'd seen it in Alby, before their last run through the Maze. He'd even seen it in Newt before.

It wasn't exhaustion. It was _defeat._

Minho quickly kneeled in front of Newt, grabbing his elbow, tighter than he meant to. "Dude, don't tell me you're gonna--"

"No," Newt replied simply, looking back at Minho. "I'm not gonna stay behind, or try and get myself killed, or anything bloody stupid like that. And I'll still help you look after the others and make sure _they_ don't do anything stupid. But I can't be in charge. Because even after everything, I just keep wonderin'…" His gaze dropped, and his voice started to shake. "I keep askin' myself -- what would Alby do? And I just don't know the buggin' answer."

Minho's jaw clenched, and he finally understood.

Newt could be stern, but he had always been an emotional sort of guy. He looked after everyone, and not just to make sure they were doing what they were supposed to. Even before Nick's death, before he'd hurt his leg, he'd do things like look after the Greenies, help them get settled. He looked after everything -- not just the Glade, but each individual Glader. He could always tell what someone needed, whether it was a day off, a pep talk, or even just a squeeze of the shoulder.

 _Glade Mom._ It had been a joke, but it was the truth, too. And it'd be messed up to force him to make decisions about what was best for the group as a _whole,_ not just each of the guys personally.

Minho wasn't sure he'd make the right decisions, but he'd at least be able to _make_ them. Though he'd have the exact same question hanging over his head for each one of them.

_What would Alby do?_

Newt's head had dropped to rest his forehead on his arms, and his shoulders shook. "I miss him, Minho. I miss him _so bloody much."_

Minho moved to sit next to him, unsurprised by the small breakdown. He knew Newt better than to have fallen for how normal he'd been acting over the past few days. He knew Newt better than to think he'd ever be over Alby's death. "I know, man." He knew he wasn't the best at the whole comfort thing, but just being there seemed to be all Newt needed from him.

They sat there for a long few minutes while Newt silently cried.

Newt's tears finally subsided, and Minho breathed deeply. "You know the guys are gonna keep thinking you're in charge, right?"

It took Newt a moment to collect himself, and he lifted his head. "We'll have to show 'em. You'll give an order, I'll say somethin' stupid and you can yell at me for it."

Minho smirked at him. "You ain't gonna whine or get mad?"

"Only if you're a shank about it," Newt said with a roll of his eyes.

"Yeah, well no backtalk. I'm the Keeper now."

"We're not in the Glade." Newt stood, and extended his hand to Minho. "Ain't no Keepers anymore."

"Right." Minho took it, and let Newt help him up. "Well, let's go get these shanks in order, then."

** Day One **

The next morning, Minho led them through the Flat Trans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well there it is kids, I hope you enjoyed it.
> 
> Thanks for reading my nonsense.


End file.
